


Approaching the Batman

by Friedrickson2



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Ass-Kicking, Batcave, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Crime Fighting, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, Dark Comedy, Dirty Jokes, Fanservice, Gun Violence, Harry Potter References, Innuendo, Insults, Martial Arts, Movie Reference, News Media, Newspapers, Organized Crime, Post-Avengers (2012), Pulp Fiction References, Puns & Word Play, SHIELD, Sarcasm, Snark, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers is Not a Nazi, Supervillains, Technology, The Iceberg Lounge, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2019-09-15 23:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16942899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Friedrickson2/pseuds/Friedrickson2
Summary: After the Battle of New York, Black Widow and Captain America are sent to Gotham to negotiate with the city's local masked vigilante. Supervillains, the Batman's personality, sarcasm and possible UST-what could possibly go wrong?





	1. Rogers's Apartment

_Variety, April 30, 2012: Steven Spielberg To Direct Captain America Film_

_Christine Everhart-After DreamWorks, with Disney's backing, won a bidding war for a screenplay revolving around famed World War II hero Captain America in mid-March, it has been officially confirmed that Steven Spielberg has agreed to direct and co-produce the film._

_Spielberg will be joined as producer by Kristie Macosko Krieger (Amblin Entertainment), Frank Marshall and Kathleen Kennedy (the Kennedy/Marshall Company), Kevin Feige (Marvel Studios) and Jeff Skoll (Participant Media)._

_The screenplay for the film was written by Christopher Marcus and Stephen McFeely, the screenwriters of the 'Narnia' films, and appeared on the 2011 'Black List' of best unproduced screenplays._

_When it was revealed earlier this years that Captain America-real name Steve Rogers, born July 4 1918-had been found alive in the Arctic, a fierce bidding war erupted in Hollywood, as various studios fought for the rights to the script, with the studios' preferred directors for the film revealed two weeks before DreamWorks's bid won:_

_20_ _th_ _Century Fox-Ridley Scott_

_Paramount-Edward Zwick_

_Universal-Robert Zemeckis_

_Warner Bros.-Peter Jackson_

_Sony-Ron Howard_

_Lionsgate-Joe Johnston_

_The Weinstein Co.-Ben Affleck_

_Disney will distribute the film through their Touchstone Pictures banner, as part of the five-year agreement between the two studios._

_With Spielberg's quick decision to take on this project, the fate of his upcoming science-fiction epic 'Robopocalypse', is unknown, though it is possible Spielberg may abandon directing duties on that film altogether in favour of this latest historical venture, or instead shoot both films one after another, as he has often done in the past._

_Steven Spielberg's latest film, 'Lincoln', will be released into theatres this November._

* * *

_July 1 2012_

As Natasha Romanoff walked towards the entrance to the apartment building, she felt a breath of relief as nobody in the streets of New York recognised her, in spite of her efforts having all over the news a few weeks ago.

Though the repelling of the Chitauri invasion was not her doing alone-she had a lot of help, to the point where she could argue her contribution was minimal-Rogers and Barton alternated between fighting Loki's army and helping civilians seek shelter (many went underground into the subways, where there was little danger), Thor and Banner's…other half did the heavy hitting, while Stark was the one who dealt the killing blow (no thanks to the World Security Council-Fury had really torn them a new one afterwards).

Noticing the lobby was for the most part empty (there was a woman reading a newspaper), she walked up to the reception and asked the secretary "Do you know where Mister Rogers's apartment is?"

The secretary looked up and replied with some curtness "No. 704."

Natasha gave a fake smile, told the secretary "Thank you," and went on her way.

704 was located on what Americans still called 'the seventh floor' despite really being on the sixth floor (Natasha wasn't sure why she eschewed that system in favour of the British one when the USSR had also counted their floors/storeys including the ground).

Bracing herself, she knocked on the wooden door four times loudly.

* * *

Almost as soon as she had lowered her fist, the door opened and Steve Rogers appeared. Going by the look on his face and the flour on his apron and hands, he had not been expecting anybody to visit him, let alone her.

"Yes?" he asked politely.

"Can I come in?" she asked. "To talk."

"Yeah, yeah, you can come in," he replied, stepping aside to let her in.

'Once a gentleman, always a gentleman,' she thought to herself.

Steve's apartment was nice, small, and homey. The oven was turned on, with something inside, and the counter looked messy with the flour and drips of egg yolk, so Natasha's suspicions earlier were confirmed.

"What's cooking?" she asked.

"Uh, Victoria sandwich," he replied, looking unsure as to take off his apron or not. "I just put it in when you knocked."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Is it okay if I go clean myself up a little?"

"Knock yourself out," she said back.

He smiled uneasily, before taking off his apron and hanging it up before he cleaned up the mess and washed his hands of the flour and yolk.

* * *

"So, how's SHIELD going?" he asked, attempting to make conversation.

"Okay," she replied, looking around the apartment and noticing a thick pile of pages tied together on the cleaner side of the counter, with pens resting on top. "The Helicarrier's undergoing repairs, but we're still unsure if it's going back up."

Steve turned and saw her notice it.

She picked it up and read the words on the front. "So did they send this to you or did you spend the past month writing it yourself?"

"No, no, no," he shook his head, wiping his hands with a tea towel. "They sent it to me two days ago in the mail, with a letter asking me my opinion on it and to let them know if I had any issues with it."

"And I'm guessing by the pens, you've been making notes on what did and didn't happen?"

"Pretty much, yeah. It's more truthful than most real-life movies I know about-"

"They're called 'documentaries'," Natasha quipped.

Steve couldn't help but laugh. "I think you know what I mean. It's about 70% real, which I think is good; because there were enough of these kinds of movie made in the '30s and '40s that were just…full of baloney. But there was still some stuff I felt could be made closer to reality-for Buck's sake, at least."

Natasha, through her readings and briefings, was well aware of Rogers's close friendship with the late Sergeant Barnes.

"So what're you aiming for-for his sake?" she asked. Partially out of curiosity and partially out of hope this discussion would finish soon so she could start the one she had been sent to have with him.

"Truth-wise? About 80-85%."

"That's a good jump," she said.

He nodded in agreement. "It is."

* * *

Sensing Natasha was anxious to change the conversation, Steve then asked, "What is it you want to really talk about?"

"Fury wants you to do something for him," she replied.

"Again?" he asked.

"Well, compared to what happened in May, it's going to be a lot more low-key," she continued, before asking "You ever been to Gotham?"

Steve shook his head. "I've heard of it, and the people in it. It was a rough place even when I was your age."

"Technically, you're still my age," Natasha said back with a cynical smirk.

"Ha, ha," said retorted Steve lightly. "Anyway, why does he want me to go to Gotham?"

"Reconnaissance," she replied. "He asked me about it too. I said yes, and he suggested you work alongside me."

"As…partners?" he asked with some trepidation.

"Yes, as partners."

"Like…you and Clint Barton, partners."

"Yeah. Partners like me and Clint."

"You still haven't told me why exactly."

"There's been a vigilante operating in Gotham for the past couple of years-since around 2005."

"So, 7 years," said Steve.

* * *

Natasha sent him a glare, and continued. "Fury ignored him at first, because he was mostly sticking to the Gotham area, but after everything that's happened since Stark outed himself as Iron Man, he's decided to contact him just to be safe. Hopefully, with you there, it'll work this time."

"So he's tried to go after this guy before?"

"Yeah. Twice. The first time, we sent in Clint. He came back just a little ruffled. The second time, we sent in three guys and they wound up having a very intense conversation with him while hanging from a building, in which he implied that if they kept following him, they'd be needing wheelchairs."

Steve winced visibly. "Did he mean it?"

Natasha shrugged. "I've no idea. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. Anyway, do you want to take this on, or would you rather we just leave you alone to your cakes?"

Steve sighed, looked at his fellow Avenger and said "I'll do it. But I wouldn't mind a word with Fury first."

"He figured you'd say something like that, and he'll meet you tomorrow, in Central Park. Dress inconspicuously."

"I'll try to," said Steve, nodding and smiling politely. "Though, uh, his coat's not the most inconspicuous."

"He'll be dressed a little more subtly, don't worry," assured Natasha, glancing at the door. "I guess that wraps up just about everything."

"You're sure you don't to, uh, stay for a little while?"

"I'm sure," she replied, "I have other things to do. Though it was a kind offer."

"See you around, then."

"Bye."

* * *

When she walked out of the building, Natasha hailed for a taxi, and after two tries, was finally able to get one to bring her back to JFK Airport.

Sitting alone in the back, with the driver smart enough to see she wasn't interesting in talking to him, she found herself contemplating the mission ahead.

She had never gone to Gotham City before. Neither, to her knowledge, had Stark, though she suspected it was because he had a greatly-exaggerated and highly one-sided 'feud' with local billionaire Bruce Wayne. And considering both that and his ego, it was certainly for the best to keep him out of this.

The Batman. They were going into one of the worst cities in America-its crime rates regularly appearing in the country's top 5 since the 1960s, horrific wealth inequality and massive corruption in government, judiciary and police that was only recently being truly investigated-to at the very least look for the vigilante regarded as having brought all of this to the forefront of debate and knowledge, while also becoming a figure of controversy himself.

Then there were the new costumed criminals who has sprung up in Gotham after the old Mafia Families fell, with the Joker being the most notorious of them. Whether they had been influenced by the Batman or not was still a matter of argument, though she knew that several of his enemies (namely Deadshot, the KGBeast and 'Killer Croc' Jones) had been around for a while before the Batman began his crusade.

'I wonder how he'll react to seeing us encroach on his territory again,' she thought. 'The fact that I'm a woman probably doesn't matter to him, seeing as he's more than willing to kick Poison Ivy's ass. Then again, while I am a redhead and have been told I'm hot by many different people, I'm not a psychotic environmental extremist with the ability to control plants, which means I would probably get along better with him than she does.

'Captain Rogers, though-how would they interact? To say the Batman's been rough on criminals and corrupt cops (who aren't any better than the former) is like saying hurricanes leave the East Coast damp. Would Rogers find his activities, his methods, distasteful? Once he's better-educated on the matter, would he see the Batman as a criminal? Or maybe he'd sympathise with him-it's possible he performed actions far more brutal and violence in the war than what the Batman's doing now, and thus see his actions in a pragmatic light. If he can let go of that damn idealism, at least.

'Hopefully though, if we just try our best not to interfere in what he does, maybe he'll hear us out, regardless of whether or not we actually get him to agree to join up.'


	2. Central Park

_The New York Times, June 5 2012: Gotham Mob Boss Sentenced To Death_

_By Jack Ryder-Salvatore Vincent Maroni, once one of the chief Mafia Bosses of Gotham City, has been sentenced to death two weeks after a federal jury found him guilty on all charges on the 19_ _th_ _of May._

_Mr. Maroni, 63, was convicted of 17 counts of racketeering, 9 counts of kidnapping, 8 of counterfeiting, 3 of mail fraud, 4 of electoral fraud and 1 charge of conspiracy to murder a member of Congress. In March, he was acquitted of 4 counts of perjury and 8 of drug trafficking charges amidst allegations of jury tampering, though he was also convicted of 1 count of assault, resulting in a 9-year prison sentence._

_Since 1995, when he is believed to have succeeded his late father, Luigi "Big Lou" Maroni, as head of the Maroni Crime Family, the younger Maroni has been indicted in over 37 felonies and other crimes and has been implicated in 17 others, ranging from cocaine trafficking and extortion to conspiracy and murder. His two sons, Pino (36) and Umberto Maroni (38), have also been implicated in organised crime, with Pino currently serving a 12-year prison sentence in Blackgate Penitentiary after being convicted in July 2011 of voter intimidation and assault._

_Mr. Maroni is perhaps most notable, however, for attacking Harvey Dent, then District Attorney in Gotham, in August 2009 during his third trial for obstruction of justice, in which he scarred the District Attorney with acid he had smuggled in disguised as stomach medicine. This incident is believed to have been a strong factor in Dent's subsequent fall from grace and mental breakdown, resulting in a gruesome murder spree in which 22 mobsters, all associated with the Maroni Crime Family, were shot to death before he was taken down by the Batman and delivered to GCPD custody._

_Speaking at the sentencing hearing, Judge Clay condemned Maroni's many crimes, referring to them as "a disgrace to both the city of Gotham, and the great state of New Jersey," before passing sentence. Mr. Maroni was then escorted out of the court by armed guards and taken to the Federal Correction Institute at Fort Dix._

_When this reporter arrived at Arkham Asylum to speak with Mr. Dent (currently incarcerated there) about this news, he was promptly turned away by staff as the information 'would have provoked the patient and possibly influence him to try and escape.'_

* * *

_July 2 2012_

Steve walked through Central Park wearing sunglasses, a hat and a jacket with upturned collar. He wasn't certain if this improvised disguise would actually work, but beggars could not be choosers.

It was now 11am, and so far he had been walking around the whole park for an hour with no sign of Director Fury.

Someone whistled loudly from behind him. He turned around to see who it was and wound up facing Nick Fury, wearing a brown leather jacket, black turtleneck, charcoal grey jeans and black combat boots.

"Where's the, uh, overcoat?" asked Steve.

"Too conspicuous for this, and it's July," replied Fury bluntly, looking at Steve with his eye. "Let's sit down."

"Yeah," agreed Steve.

Thankfully there was a bench not far from where the two men were standing, and they promptly sat down.

"You understand what Agent Romanoff asked you for me?" Fury asked.

"Yes sir," replied Steve.

"Good. Are you still willing to go to Gotham and do this?"

"After Natasha left, I went and did some research on the guy-on the Batman."

"What do you think of it?"

* * *

"He's tough. Real tough. It's a little unnerving, but considering the state of the police department when he started out, it pretty much sounds to me like there wasn't much choice."

"Did you read about him putting half the SWAT Team in the hospital?" asked Fury.

"This may seem odd coming from me, but they had it coming. They were reckless, dangerous, violent, and horrifically discriminatory. Loeb was just as bad, if not worse."

"Strong sentiments about police corruption, Cap," remarked Fury.

"Back in Brooklyn, there were a few cops we all knew were on the take and/or wilfully negligent," replied Steve.

"Back to the topic of the Batman-what else do you think about him?"

"He's not a threat to this country. He's certainly dangerous, but going by the people he's fought, it wouldn't be in his character to turn against us."

'You never know,' thought Fury cynically.

"I'd still rather be safe than sorry," he said openly.

"Fair enough," accepted Steve. "So what do you want me to do?"

* * *

"You and Agent Romanoff will be arriving in Gotham on the 9th of July, masquerading as reporters," explained Fury. "You're in Gotham investigating the Batman. That's going to be part of your cover-nobody's going to be questioning why reporters from out of town are going around the place asking questions about the Batman."

"That makes sense," agreed Steve. "What else is there?"

"You'll be staying at the Royal Hotel, in the same room," continued Fury.

Looking a little uncomfortable, Steve asked, "Why?"

"Because we don't have all the money in the world, it would look suspicious if it was two rooms at a $1200-per-night-hotel and the next meeting about the budget won't be until September. That's why," answered Fury. "But if it makes you feel any better, the room in question has two beds."

"Okay. So me and Natasha are going to be going around Gotham, asking about their local vigilante."

"Yes. Make sure the two of you keep in touch regarding where you've been and who you've spoken to."

"How does that line of action help us meet with him?"

"Go out looking for crimes in progress, wait, and after he deals with them, try to approach him."

"So just look and do nothing to help the people?" asked Steve uneasily.

"If it's serious, then you can intervene," replied Fury. "Unless you use yourself as bait and pray he arrives."

"I'd rather not," said Steve. "We do that, we might jeopardise our chances with him by wasting time he could be spending to halt more important matters."

"Good point, but meeting with him does that anyway, and he's not a god-he can't be everywhere to stop all crimes at once."

"He can try, though."

* * *

"Is there anything specific you want me and Natasha to do to get him out for a meeting?" asked Steve.

"I don't care how you do it, so long as it doesn't become too public or get either of you killed," replied Fury.

"And if worse comes to worst and we end up fighting with him?"

"Try not to kill him."

"Seeing as he's hasn't been known to kill, that part should be easy," remarked Steve.

Fury gave a nod. "Alright then."

"Is that all, sir?"

"Just one thing."

"What would that be, sir?" asked Steve curiously.

Fury turned to face Steve, the look in his eye a serious one as always.

"Be careful in Gotham. That is all." He paused for a few seconds. "You are free to go, Captain."

Steve nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, sir."

The two men got up, shook hands, exchanged goodbyes and walked their separate ways for the time being, both of them thinking about the days ahead.

* * *

'How do I know he's telling me everything about this?' wondered Steve. 'He didn't tell any of the Avengers-though Natasha probably had an idea-about the weapons that were being created from the Tesseract. What else is he hiding? If it's something important to this mission, it could affect the ability of Natasha and myself to succeed in establishing contact with the Batman.

'About him-how will he feel knowing that there are some more people encroaching on his turf looking for him to join a team of superheroes (I still need to get used to that word). Going by everything I know about him so far, he seems more of a 'lone wolf' type, like Jay was.'

Steve's thoughts then turned to a more paranoid path. 'Then there are all the criminals he's faced-the 'supervillains', or the 'Rogues Gallery of Gotham'. Nygma, Isley, Day, Crane and Dent are currently incarcerated at Arkham Asylum, no idea where 'Catman' and 'Black Mask' are, and 'Killer Croc' Jones was last seen outside Atlanta, Georgia. Suppose at least one of them breaks out-would it be wrong if I wanted to help then? Would Fury and Natasha agree? Would the Batman agree to let me help, is probably the more important issue. Maybe he would if the situation was dire enough-though God forbid that happens.

'Either way, the potential prospect of talking to him and distracting him if he's investigating the whereabouts of a dangerous fugitive, however small, is not something I would like to do. I just want to meet him, explain what we're doing, listen to what he says in return, and pray for the best.

'Knowing what happens when fate's tempted though, I'm just going to end up jinxing myself by saying that, so I'd like to retract those thoughts and hopes as soon as possible so that I do not have to find myself fighting him, probably getting my ass handed to me if he's only been holding back, and dealing with crazed supervillains. I just hope Natasha doesn't get hurt either during the second part of that-maybe the Batman has a chivalrous streak when it comes to redheads who aren't trying to kill him.'

Feeling his stomach rumble, Steve's train of thought came to a stop. He cursed the increased metabolism that the Super-Soldier Serum gave him, checked his wallet and pocket for money (he had a debit card now, but he still wasn't used to using it), found he had $3.00 in coins, and was around a hundred paces from a hot dog vendor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the characters or the films (unless Marvel and DC screw up the copyrighting by accident somehow).


	3. The Iceberg Lounge

_New York Post, May 17 2012-KILLER CROC STRIKES AGAIN!_

_By Cat Grant-The legendary monster-man known as 'Killer Croc' has claimed yet another poor victim when he attacked a local fisherman outside a sleep Georgia town._

_The reptilian super-villain, a circus freak-turned-criminal, has been on the run since he escaped the notorious Arkham Asylum on March 20th, his fourth attempt at doing so from the institution and his second successful escape from custody, having been imprisoned at Arkham since September 2010. He was last seen in his old haunt-the Gotham City sewers-chasing after the Batman himself on April 1st._

_What happened next is unknown, but we at The Post think that, as the Batman has been seen since then uninjured, that Killer Croc probably lost the fight between the two._

_Defeated, it is believed Killer Croc then escaped from Gotham City and has been making his way down the East Coast since, possibly staying in the Georgian side of the Okefenokee swamp._

_The fisherman in question, Harris McCoy, aged 44, a shopkeeper by trade who fished in his spare time, and was a resident of Fargo, Georgia, was last seen at 7 o'clock on May 15th going out to fish on the Okefenokee swamp. At 5 o'clock the following morning, the wrecked remains of his rowing-boat, with the savaged remains of McCoy's body inside, were found floating near the shore._

_Despite being convicted in 2007 of 6 killings and again in 2010 of 8 more, he is believed in reality to have killed at least 70 people since he began his criminal career in 2003, making him probably one of THE most prolific serial killers in American history._

_Killer Croc, while not normally armed, is considered highly dangerous. We strongly advise our readers that, should they see him, not to approach him for any reason at all: aside from being a sadistic murderer, he has claimed to be a cannibal on numerous occasions. As such, any and all sightings should be reported to the police or the F.B.I. as soon as possible._

* * *

_July 5 2012_

Thomas Blake waited anxiously at the bar, lightly drumming his fingers on the polished marble surface, just waiting for someone to approach him and ask him to come with them.

Lowering his drink, he moved his hand down and felt the bag of diamonds that were in his pocket. Knowing they were safely on his person, especially after all the time and effort he had taken to get them here, made him smile in satisfaction.

He had gone hunting for diamonds like these in Somalia two weeks ago, seeing an opportunity for personal gain in the country's strife and instability, like all predators. Before he had taken them, they were locked up in the safe of a local warlord; before that, they had presumably originated in the mines of Sierra Leone, most likely as 'blood diamonds' in the 1990s.

Fortunately, the safe was easy to penetrate; unfortunately, the guard dogs had better hearing. Before he managed to successfully escape, he had, in addition to the diamonds, stolen an AK-47 and a second-hand motorcycle and killed 6 soldiers and a civilian. Luckily for him, he lost none of his lives.

Now here he was, sitting and drinking at the Iceberg Lounge, waiting to be brought up to meet his usual buyer, the top predator in Gotham's fencing racket whose lair he was now sitting inside, the Penguin.

Blake looked at the ornate clock on the wall-it was now 9.00, meaning that the Penguin was now eating. Whatever exactly the veteran gangster was having this time, Blake did not know: the Penguin was not a picky eater and had quite the sizeable appetite, which was undoubtedly the reason for his infamous girth (the man was not lazy, if the beating he gave his last accountant was anything to go by-he just ate a lot).

As he took another drink from the martini glass, he felt a hand tap his shoulder. Putting his drink down, he turned around to see Lark, the Penguin's right-hand woman, with her black Bob haircut and slim tuxedo.

"He's ready to see you now," she said. "And it's a special occasion, so he's decided that you'll be having dinner with him tonight."

'Dinner?' though Blake, surprised, before mentally shrugging. 'Well, I haven't eaten in a while, so I might as well indulge him. 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do', as the old saying goes.'

With Lark leading and Blake following her, they both walked away from the bar and up the white stairs, stopping in front of the door to the Penguin's office.

"He's with me," explained Lark to the muscled bodyguard standing outside the door. When the bodyguard raised an eyebrow, she added, "The boss asked him in for dinner."

Hearing this, the bodyguard stepped aside and opened the door. Lark stepped in, and Blake followed her.

* * *

The Penguin's office was a grand room, with a mahogany desk and grandiose leather chair at the back, mauve walls, a big dining table/board table in the centre of the room covered by a patterned cloth, and various items of varying degrees of expensiveness and ornateness all around: for instance, a bust of an ornithologist whose name Blake had not bothered to remember, 19th-century china plates sitting on the table, the oil painting  _Portrait of a Young Man_  by Raphael framed behind the desk, an oak-and-marble hatstand upon which hung a black top hat, and an umbrella stand made from an elephant's foot. There was no right wall-instead, there was a massive bulletproof window overlooking the interior of the Iceberg Lounge allowing the Penguin to watch over and keep an eye on his domain.

At the head of the dining room table, smiling as Blake and Lark entered the room, sat the Penguin himself. Wearing a three-piece white tie tuxedo with tailcoat and double-breasted waistcoat, the Penguin was a fat man of average height (Blake surmised he was roughly 5 feet 7 inches), with reddish-brown hair neatly combed and slicked back, a rather sharp and prominent nose that resembled a bird's beak (apparently this and his dress sense were what got the Penguin his moniker), and a weak chin that was partly absorbed into the neck flab. Over his left eye, he wore a monocle of clear glass (he had 20/20 vision and didn't need to wear one-he only wore it for the look).

"Thomas," he said warmly, extending his arms in a 'welcome' gesture. "It's good to see you again after all this time."

"And likewise for you too," replied Blake, sitting down to the Penguin's left. "I have the diamonds on me-"

"Hush now about the diamonds," interrupted the Penguin. "Dinner first, then we talk business."

"Okay then," accepted Blake, as Lark sat to the Penguin's right and the food arrived.

The heaps of food that was presented for starters (garlic bread, prawns, smoked salmon, oysters, olives, and caviar), main course (roasted ham, roasted leg of lamb with mint sauce, roasted pork with apple sauce, Yorkshire pudding, assorted vegetables, potatoes, and a full goose roasted and basted) and dessert (raspberry meringue roulade, chocolate Victoria sponge cake, Berliners, Black Forest gateau, apple crumble, and creme brulee) were more than enough for Blake, while he certainly ate his fill and felt like bursting, to be convinced that the Penguin was going to get gout or suffer a heart attack at some point in the future.

That the Penguin gorged himself on all this (albeit doing so in a polite and mannerly fashion) only served to further solidify Blake's opinion of this matter.

Once the food was cleared away (Blake presumed the Penguin's staff and pets were going to be fed the leftovers), the Penguin stretched his arms a little and elicited a moan of content, clearly happy with his meal.

"Now we talk business, Thomas," he said after a few minutes of mutual silence and rest as the champagne was brought in, followed by a thin, middle-aged man with balding brown hair and black sunglasses dressed in a double-breasted suit and gloves, who Blake recognised immediately.

* * *

"Hello, Mr. Blake," said the Broker cordially.

"Hello to you, Mr. Fine," said Blake in return as the Broker sat down next to Lark.

"Now, may we see what the Catman has dragged in tonight?" asked the Penguin curiously.

Smiling modestly, Blake reached into his pocket and took out the bag of diamonds, opening it up and emptying the precious stones onto the table.

"Beautiful," murmured the Penguin.

"Indeed they are," agreed Blake.

The Broker removed his sunglasses, revealing bright blue eyes, and took from his own pocket a loupe to examine the diamonds.

"Where did you obtain these diamonds?" asked the Broker.

"About 50 miles from Mogadishu," replied Blake.

"And when exactly did you do so?"

"I obtained them on the 21st. Why do you ask?"

"Personal curiosity," answered the Broker, holding a diamond in his gloved hand and examining it carefully.

Knowing that this process would take another half-hour, the Penguin turned to Blake and asked "So how was Africa?"

"Not much different from my last visit," replied Blake. "However, I did meet an old friend of mine there-a mercenary from South America. You would like her."

"Maybe I would," wondered the Penguin aloud. "So long as she impresses."

* * *

After half an hour had passed, the Broker put down the last diamond carefully.

"These diamonds are from Sierra Leone," he said simply. "Most likely, they were mined during the early 1990s to fund the forces of a faction in the civil war."

"So they are 'blood diamonds,'" said Blake.

"You suspected that they were?" inquired the Broker, taking out a notepad and pen.

Blake nodded. "Yes."

"Your suspicions were correct then. Now, they are of exceptionally high quality, which doubtlessly increases their worth-would you say that obtaining these diamonds was difficult, Mr. Blake?"

"Yes," replied Blake. "I nearly managed to get them out of the safe without detection, but the wind started blowing and the guard dogs picked up my scent. I had to steal a motorcycle and kill a number of the guards to escape with them."

"I see," the Broker said, not sounding like he cared that people died for the diamonds to get to their current location. "And how many did you kill?"

"6 guards, and a civilian," answered Blake. "So 7."

The Penguin sent Blake a reproachful look. Blake ignored it, but he knew the crime boss was right.

The Broker finished writing. "It seems then, going by the number of diamonds delivered-39, to be exact-coupled with their superb quality and the efforts you undertook to obtain them, along with the fact that each diamond is an average of 2.5 carats, are roughly the same shape, and are all E grade, I would suggest a price of $59,850 per diamond for Mr. Blake."

"How much is that?" asked Blake.

"$2,334,150."

Blake let out a whistle. "I'll accept it," he said. "So long as your boss makes a profit on them."

The Penguin let out a chuckle. "I will, don't worry. I always will."

* * *

"So, I must ask," asked Blake a few minutes later, as the diamonds were placed back into their bag and the Broker left the room, "why is it that you brought up here for dinner?"

"Because it's a special occasion," replied the Penguin. "10 years ago today, you and I had our first business meeting. Do you remember?"

"Yes, I do," answered Blake. "Lark was new too-her accent wasn't as strong."

Lark said nothing, but gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"I had decided to use my skills and training, that I had built up hunting game in Africa and serving in the Army, for my own personal profit," continued Blake. "I created my costume, cloth and Kevlar. I chose Mayor Hill's penthouse apartment as my first target and waited and watched until I learnt he was taking his family to Disneyland for the weekend. So, with the right moment, I pounced. I broke into the apartment, emptied the safe in his office, ransacked the wife's jewel box, and made my mark clear on the walls."

"So you did," remembered the Penguin, smiling at the memory. "The press were in hysterics. Never mind Hill himself when he found out-the money he spent on security afterwards was about a third of what you got from me in exchange for everything."

Blake laughed at the fact. "And yet that proved useless when Catwoman broke in four years later."

The Penguin laughed too. "Jesus, I forgot she broke in too. Dead of night, everyone asleep, security cameras on, she slips into the bedroom, opens all the drawers, and takes everything valuable, without waking them up."

"Yes, indeed, and we both made a pretty penny ourselves from that, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did, Thomas. $1 million for you, which I then made back with extra when I sold them off."

"Those were the days," smiled Blake. "Three great years of success and prosperity, until  _he_  showed up."

* * *

At Blake's reference to the Batman, the Penguin sneered and balled his hand into a fist.

"God damn him," he growled. "He once broke into my office two years ago and confronted me over a mob hit that he thought I ordered."

"Which one?" asked Blake.

"Joe Russo," replied the Penguin. "As it happens, I didn't order the hit, but I did want that rat bastard dead, and that was enough for him to investigate me and my dealings. He didn't leave me be for another three weeks-then Poison Ivy strutted into town and began her charade, and that took the heat from him off of me."

"Quite a stroke of luck, then," remarked Blake.

"A stroke of luck indeed," agreed the Penguin contemptuously. "He's been especially lucky himself since he showed up. The number of times he's cheated death, dodged a bullet, so on and so forth...God damn him."

"He's been a thorn in my side forever too," added Blake. "After we began our business association, before the Batman arrived, I managed to pull off 25 heists, all successful, in the space of three years. Since 2005, I've attempted a mere 15, and only 7 of them have actually succeeded."

"And that is the story of why you expanded your hunting range internationally," finished the Penguin.

"Yes."

"While in addition, you have dabbled in mercenary work in South America and Asia."

"Also true. How do you know?"

"I have contacts, Thomas, and have worked with others in that line of work," answered the Penguin. "Who knows, maybe you'll meet a few soon enough."

"You're not about to have me killed, are you?" asked Blake.

* * *

The Penguin laughed. "Lord no, Thomas. What good would that do me? No, no, I've got something else in mind."

"And what would that be?" asked Blake.

"I'm using those contacts to spread the word around-whoever brings me and Black Mask the Batman alive to kill gets $90 million. In cold, hard cash."

Blake let out a wold-whistle. "How did you get the money?" he asked.

"I withdrew it from one of my offshore accounts," replied the Penguin. "I'm not going to tell you which one or where I have it located now, for that matter. No offence meant, of course."

"No offence taken-it's a good idea," said Blake. "I'd be quite happy to do Gotham City's underworld the service of bringing the Batman to his executioner. But I imagine, if you're spreading the word around about this new bounty-it's going to be a contest."

The Penguin grinned. "Oh, yes, Thomas. Professionals only, if you know what I mean. As much a pain in the side he is, the Batman should at least have the honour of being bested by an equal. Removing the mask is optional-I don't give a shit who he is under it, only that his heart stops beating."

"Wise sentiments," remarked Blake.

"Thank you," smiled the Penguin. "Will you be taking part, seeing as you've expressed something like enthusiasm for it?"

"Perhaps, so long as it's friendly competition."

"With $90 million on the line?" asked the Penguin sarcastically. "Not likely. So how about it?"

"At the very least, I'll drink to it," replied Blake, taking a glass of champagne. "To the Batman's death."

"To the Batman's death."


	4. JKF Intl.-Archie Goodwin Intl.

_The Gotham Globe, May 30, 2012: Spielberg's Captain America Biopic Sets Release Date and Begins Casting_

_By Angela Chen-DreamWorks Pictures and Disney's Touchstone Pictures have set their biopic of WWII legend Captain America, currently set to be directed by Steven Spielberg, for an April 2014 release date, while Spielberg has already begun assembling his cast and crew for the film._

_Regular collaborators Rick Carter (production designer), Janusz Kaminski (cinematographer) and Michael Kahn (film editor) are all currently expected to once again team up with the director on the project, currently alleged to begin filming as early as next January, though script rewrites may delay shooting until later in the year. Nothing has yet to be reported as to whether longtime Spielberg composer John Williams will sign on to the project, though it is considered likely he will do so._

_Producer Frank Marshall revealed to 'The Daily Bugle' that he believed casting to take place mostly between June and September, and that Spielberg is looking to shoot the film in England: "Steven has a real fondness for shooting in England, and both he and I would love to go back there to do this movie."_

_A casting call for British actresses has been announced for the female lead of S.S.R. Agent Peggy Carter, with potential actresses from Oscar-nominees Keira Knightley and Carey Mulligan to rising talents Juno Temple and Emma Watson all being speculated for the part. In addition, actors Hugo Weaving and Ralph Fiennes are being considered the likely candidates for the role of Johann Schmidt, the founder of rogue Nazi sect HYDRA and nicknamed the 'Red Skull'._

_Finally, the filmmakers are looking to cast an American actor in the lead role of 'Captain America', Steve Rogers. The process is expected to involve tight competition from many of Hollywood's younger actors, given the prestige of the role and especially after the Captain was seen aiding civilians and fighting in the alien invasion of New York earlier this month. It is expected that Rogers's frail appearance before he was given Abraham Erskine's Super-Soldier Serum will be achieved by a combination of visual effects and body doubles._

_Steven Spielberg's newest film, historical drama 'Lincoln', is set to be released this November._

* * *

_July 9 2012_

"This is our flight," Natasha told Steve as she led him to the gate for their flight to Gotham's Archie Goodwin International Airport, both of them holding their carry-on bags.

"Do I really need these?" asked Steve about the glasses he was wearing.

"Do you want people to come up to you, recognising your real identity, and jeopardise the mission?" asked Natasha back, her hair cut short and dyed chestnut brown.

"No," answered Steve.

"There you go."

The spy and the soldier passed through the gate and onto the jet bridge, Steve looking around it with bewildered amazement and Natasha remembering he was still adjusting to the 21st century.

Steve sat down next to the window, while Natasha was sitting in front of him. A balding middle-aged man in sunglasses sat down next to Steve and began reading a newspaper. The seat next to Natasha stayed empty, even as the final passengers boarded.

While Steve began flicking through the leaflets and magazines provided with a lazy hand, Natasha took out her copy of  _A Confederacy of Dunces_ , a $1 bill serving as a bookmark for where she last stopped reading.

* * *

As the plane took off from JFK International Airport, Natasha, while still reading Toole's posthumous opus, began to formulate the course of action for herself and Steve once they got off the plane with as much detail as possible:

Firstly-they would go to the nearest vending machine with whatever change they had, and get a chocolate bar each.

Secondly-they would collect their baggage and dispose of the wrappers in the same trashcan.

Thirdly-she and Steve would hail for a taxi; if they didn't catch a taxi in the following 30 minutes, they would head for the nearest bus going into the city.

Fourthly-the taxi would take them straight to the Royal Hotel; the bus would take them to the bus station and they would either walk 4 blocks to the Royal or hail for a taxi.

Fifthly-upon arriving at the hotel, she would do the talking at the reception while Steve handled the bags; once they were checked in, he would then hand them to the bellboy and the three of them would take the elevator.

Sixthly-they would step inside their room, she and Steve would give a small tip for the bellboy after he brought everything in, and she would go into the bathroom for a 15-minute shower before emerging to change back into her clothes and going out to begin investigating the Batman, and thus finding a way to make contact with him.

* * *

Steve, now finished with reading what the plane had provided, began to silently go back over previous thoughts regarding Gotham and the Batman, and hoped that neither he nor Natasha would have to fight him and that he would hear them out.

At the same time, he hoped that the two of them wouldn't get much trouble from the local underworld or supervillains. This was in spite of the fact that he knew part of attracting the Batman was to deliberately put himself in the sights of said criminals.

He wondered how someone like the Riddler would react if they learnt they had kidnapped Captain America, if they would take the opportunity to kill him, gloat about it live to the world via Internet or TV, torture him to find the limits of his enhanced physiology, or worse, start fanboying (Steve only found the obsessive fanboys/fangirls annoying, to be fair, and those people who had recognised him and respected his privacy, he gave respect back).

'As long as it's someone like Edward Nygma, or even Doctor Isley' he thought. 'If the Joker ends up coming back, then the results probably won't be good for either of us, or the rest of the city. And if Crane escapes from Arkham, then there's just as much reason to be worried.'

Steve's mind then turned to the GCPD. He knew for a fact that he or Natasha (or maybe both of them) would have to try at some point and get information about the Batman and where to find him from the local cops.

Finding a police officer in Gotham probably wouldn't be difficult, and getting them to talk about him would certainly be made easier if they were supporters. The dirty cops, on the other hand, would either not talk about the vigilante or would swear angrily while doing so. Considering the number of them the Batman had sent to ER and/or prison, this was not surprising.

* * *

A short while later, the plane began to descend down to Gotham's Archie Goodwin International Airport.

Hearing the captain announce the plane's descent on the intercom, Natasha put the dollar back between the pages of her novel to mark her progress for a later time and put it back into her backpack.

Steve took his gaze away from the window and instead readied himself to get out of his seat (though he kept his seatbelt on), as the man next to him folded his newspaper and did the same.

"Is this your first time coming to Gotham?" the man asked Steve.

"Uh, yeah, I think so," replied Steve. He hadn't-for some reason his USO tour during the war hadn't gone to Gotham period (he had gone to Bludhaven back then, though).

"Same, though my brother-in-law lives there," continued the man. "One word of advice I have been told from my sister, though-if you see an unaccompanied minor who then walks up to you, make sure your wallet's out of their reach so they don't take anything."

This second-hand piece advice did little to make Steve worry less about Gotham, and his lack of response brought this conversation to an end.

A few minutes later, he could see the architecture of the city outside his window. Having seen photographs of the city skyline and of the buildings themselves, he found himself able to identify most of the individual buildings below-Wayne Tower, the GCPD Headquarters (with something on the roof covered by a tarpaulin), the Gotham Museum of Art, the Gotham National Bank, and Gemini Jewellers, among others. Until the plane finally landed, he stared out the window at the city he was entering and hoped he was welcome there.

* * *

"Now that we're here, what do we do now?" asked Steve, as Natasha raised her arm and began waving for a taxi.

"We get a taxi and head for the hotel," she replied, grinning when her effort quickly paid off and a dirty yellow cab began driving towards them.

Steve covered his mouth and burped, tasting the chocolate. 'Why did she have to choose the dark chocolate?' he wondered.

At this point Natasha had just finished talking to the driver and was opening the door for herself and Steve, who helped her load everything into the trunk.

"We're both paying for this, right?" asked Steve.

"Yes," replied Natasha. "It's probably going to be $20, by the way."

Steve, realising once more how much prices had risen since the 1940s and the war, sighed with a smile. He took out a $10 bill from his wallet and put it into his left pocket so he could give it to the driver when they arrived at the Royal.

Getting inside, Steve closed the door and the driver started, leaving Natasha content that so far, nothing had gone wrong.

And she fully expected everything to go wrong on this mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are not obliged, but they are welcome.


	5. The Royal Hotel

_The Gotham Times, November 22, 2011: 'The Riddler' Captured Once Again_

_By Vicki Vale-After escaping Arkham Asylum on September 1, criminal mastermind Edward Nygma, also known as 'The Riddler', was finally captured in an abandoned warehouse near Gotham Harbour last night after his latest conspiracy was foiled by the efforts of both the Batman and the Gotham City Police Department._

_Nygma, 42, was previously arrested in August 2009 for organising a six-month spree of robberies of banks and jewellery stores which involved leaving cryptic clues and puzzles hinting at the next target for both the police and the Batman, leading to his now-infamous nickname courtesy of freelance journalist Jack Ryder._

_This latest plot, which involved hijacking a train carrying an estimated $300 million worth in gold bars to the United States Bullion Depository at Fort Knox, was hampered when Nygma arranged a break-in at a gun store using his hired help to steal weapons for the heist, which was intercepted by the Batman, who then tracked down several of the escaping henchmen to the Riddler's hideout._

_When Det. Harvey Bullock arrived on the scene and arrested Mr. Nygma himself, he discovered that Nygma had also abducted Wayne Enterprise CEO Lucius Fox (57) to serve as an 'insurance policy- of-sorts in the event of his hijacking going wrong, with the intent being to free Fox in exchange for his own freedom. However, the appearance of the Batman, who subdued Nygma and his men before freeing Fox, sabotaged that part of the plan._

_Commissioner Gordon praised the "dedication and effort of the GCPD in their investigation and work to recapture Nygma and prevent him from carrying out his plans," though some may question how involved in Nygma's capture the GCPD really were involved, and whether or not he should instead give credit to the Batman._

_Whether or not Nygma will attempt another escape remains to be seen, but what is certain is that, for the time being anyway, it seems Gothamites can sleep more easily knowing its defenders are out there keeping them safe._

* * *

_July 9 2012_

They arrived at the Hotel and payed the driver ($25-a quarter up from Natasha's expectation). Steve carried the heavier bags and Natasha took hold of the lighter ones as she walked up to the reception.

"Hi," she said in a sweet, happy-go-lucky voice, with a big friendly smile on her face, "me and my friend booked a room-"

"What number?" asked the receptionist rudely.

"1939, I think," replied Natasha, restraining herself from insulting the woman.

"What name is the room booked for?" the receptionist asked again, checking her computer.

"Johnson. Ingrid Johnson," replied Natasha.

"And your friend? The other guest?"

"Robert Capuano," replied Natasha.

The receptionist continued to check the records for a couple more seconds. Both Steve and Natasha waited patiently.

"Yes, you're here," confirmed the receptionist, not sounding like she was pleased. Getting out of her seat, she took out the key-cards and handed it to Natasha. "It's on the 10th floor."

"Thank you," replied Natasha. "You were quite the help, miraculously."

Followed by Steve, she then walked to the nearest elevator, placed her bags on the bellboy's trolley, and pressed the button for the 10th floor.

* * *

The moment they found the door to room 1939, Natasha opened the door using the key-card (whilst wondering whether or not Steve knew how to use it properly) and stepped in, holding the door open for Steve and the bellboy.

"Well Robert," she said to Steve, "this is it."

Steve was confused by her calling him 'Robert', but tried his best to hide it from the bellboy.

Seeing as the young man didn't notice this as he took Steve's tip after Natasha's, Steve presumed that he succeeded.

"Robert?" he asked Natasha the moment the bellboy closed the door.

"Aliases," she replied.

"Ah. Okay then."

"Good," said Natasha as she opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. "You don't need to go, do you?" she asked Steve.

Steve shook his head.

"Okay then. I'll be in the shower. See you in around half an hour and we'll get started."

Steve nodded. "Gotcha. I'll just unpack my things, if that's alright."

"It's alright."

* * *

Half an hour later, true to her word, Natasha stepped out of the bathroom, her hair damper than when she entered.

"15 minutes actually showering, right?" asked Steve, who was sitting on his bed and looking over a copy of SHIELD's file on the Batman (duly provided to both him and Natasha by Agent Hill).

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "How did you know?"

"I could hear the shower through the walls," he replied.

Natasha gave a simple nod of acknowledgement. "Okay."

"Okay," said Steve back, before he asked, "Are we starting now?"

"Going over that file, you mean?"

"No, going out and finding him."

Natasha looked out the window. "Well, it's still light out, and most of the sightings happen between 7pm and 4am. Which gives us 9 hours to do that."

"The time now is 4.30 now," said Steve, glancing at his watch. "Should we just go around and familiarise ourselves with the layout of the city first?"

"Not a bad sounding idea, I admit, but we are supposed to be from out of town. It's only natural we don't know our way around."

"You seriously think two reporters investigating the Batman in Gotham wouldn't learn their way around the city, just in case he needed to rescue them?" pointed out Steve.

"Alright. That is a good point."

* * *

"How about," suggested Steve, "we go out this evening, learn our way around the city, and also use it to ask a few questions about the Batman?"

"That's not a bad idea," complimented Natasha. "I say we go for it. We meet back here in about 2 hours?"

"Sure," agreed Steve. "How about you get back here first? I'm...still not confident in using those cards."

"They're a pain in the ass for everyone, don't worry," said Natasha back. "But where to? Bars? Police stations? Arkham Asylum?"

"We should probably go around the rest of the city first before we go there," suggested Steve.

"Alright then, what about this idea?" asked Natasha. "You go to one of the local newspapers, ask around about the Batman, hopefully someone agrees to talk to you and you just make sure to record everything he says."

"With a recorder, right?" asked Steve.

"Yes," replied Natasha. "I know that Erskine's Serum improved your memory and attention to detail, but it's better to have and not need it in the event you miss something."

"What about you?" Where are you going?" Steve asked.

"The nearest seedy bar filled with criminals," replied Natasha. "I can always convince them of the catharsis they'll get from talking about it. And you know well I can handle myself."

"Honestly," said Steve, "if they try to do something to you, Natasha, I'd be more worried about them."

* * *

Walking out of the doors of the hotel, Steve and Natasha went in opposite directions-Steve to the offices of  _The Gotham Globe_  newspaper, and Natasha to The Stacked Deck (apparently a popular watering hole for lower-level criminals).

Walking out of the hotel as quickly as he did, though, meant Steve couldn't stop himself in time to prevent stumbling and crashing into a man in a brown suit and sunglasses, both of them falling to the ground.

"Sorry," he apologised to the man, helping him get back up.

"No, no, I'm sorry," replied the man, in a soft, yet gravelly voice. "I didn't see you walk out."

Steve smiled and raised his hand. "It's fine, don't worry."

"You're sure?" asked the man.

"Yeah," nodded Steve.

"Okay then," accepted the man, giving Steve a thumbs-up as he walked away, taking out a match and putting it between his teeth.

Steve watched him walk some more yards and then turn around, match clenched in teeth, and walk back towards Steve.

"We haven't met before, have we?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so," replied Steve, smiling awkwardly. "I've never been to Gotham before."

"In that case, if you need any help around here, here's my card," replied the man, pulling a cream yellow card from his pocket and handing it to Steve.

"Thanks," said Steve.

"Don't mention it," replied the man. "See you soon."

* * *

As the man walked away out of sight, Steve turned around and began walking to the Globe.

Reaching the bus stop, he brought the card closer to his eyes to get a better look at it while waiting for the bus.

"' _Patrick 'Matches' Malone-everyman and salesman_ ,'" he read quietly to himself. He looked at the phone number written underneath and memorised it, but decided to keep the card in his wallet anyway.

'Something of a souvenir, maybe?' he thought to himself. 'He seems like a decent guy-modest, friendly, accommodating. Maybe if I have trouble tracking someone down, I'll ask if he can help me.'

A few more people came to the bus stop. Steve looked at the schedule, then his watch, and saw that he had another 7 minutes left before it came.

'When I get to the  _Globe_  offices, I'll ask for Alexander Knox. Most of their articles and coverage regarding the Batman has been written by him, so he's probably their expert on him too. According to Natasha, he's quite eager to talk to people about the Batman and even has a box of papers and files on the subject.'

He turned his head. The bus was coming-it was in the distance, but it was coming.

'Maybe Malone could help look for the Batman. Maybe he could arrange something. If he knows the Batman, maybe he could help set up a meeting for me and Natasha to talk to him.'

The bus came closer. Steve kept on thinking, this time about the questions he ought to ask Knox.

'What are the Batman's patterns, how does he fight, has he any special abilities, who he may be. I probably won't ask them exactly like that and as quickly, but they should provide a good pattern to follow.'

The bus finally stopped. Steve let the other passengers get out first, stepped aboard and, upon paying for his seat, sat down and waited patiently to get to the  _Globe_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I own nothing.  
> 2\. Is it wrong I'm mentally casting all the Bat-centric characters?


	6. The Stacked Deck Club

_The New York Times, March 17 2012: Galaxy Communications To Purchase 'Wall Street Journal' Publishers_

_By Rachel Abrams-Galaxy Communications, Inc. has agreed to purchase Dow Jones & Company, the publishers of 'The Wall Street Journal' from its current owners, News Corporation, for $6.1 billion._

_The impending sale comes after a turbulent year for News Corporation, after the company and its subsidiaries, particularly in the United Kingdom, found itself entrenched in numerous scandals and controversies, largely related to allegations and accusations of phone hacking and bribery, leading to 'The New York Post' being subject to an FBI investigation, the arrests of several journalists and the closure of their British tabloid 'News of the World'._

_News Corporation CEO Rupert Murdoch said in a press conference announcing the sale that he lamented having to let the publishing firm go to a new company._

" _Dow Jones and Company only came under the News Corporation umbrella a few short years ago, and to see it, and the 'Journal', leave us for new pastures, while it is a sad day for us, must also be accepted…though I must bid Dow Jones 'good luck' under their new management and Mr. Edge."_

_Conversely, Morgan Edge, the founder and CEO of Galaxy Communications, welcomed the addition of the prestigious firm to his already impressive collection of enterprises at his own press conference in Metropolis._

" _I've always been an avid reader of the 'Wall Street Journal', and while the idea of actually being able to buy it never crossed my mind during Galaxy's early years, the fact that I am now able to welcome it and its owners to the Galaxy Communications family is surely something I must celebrate. And I assure you that they will be accommodated as much as possible."_

_Negotiations for the sale began in November, when Edge approached Murdoch about the possibility of purchasing one of his company's subsidiaries, which has been speculated by some more cynical minds as being Edge and Galaxy Communications attempting to take advantage of News Corporation's phone hacking scandals for its own gain._

_It was initially reported that Murdoch wanted nothing below $7 billion for Dow Jones. However, Edge's notorious negotiation tactics won out, with some critics accusing the 49-year-old of strong-arming Murdoch and his team into agreeing to accept the reduced sale price. Representatives from Galaxy Communications has denied these claims._

_The formal acquisition of Dow Jones and Company by Galaxy Communications is expected to be concluded by mid-May._

* * *

_July 9 2012_

The Stacked Deck Club was four storeys tall, with its name exposed in a big sign advertising the bar in red and green neon lights, though they were turned off for the time being. The walls were a fading off-white, with the paint starting to flake off.

Natasha looked at the entrance. No bouncers. She wondered briefly if it was because, being a bar full of criminals, there was little they could do in the event of a fight breaking out.

"Wish me luck," she murmured quietly to nobody in particular as she stepped towards the doors and allowed herself inside.

Inside, there were a lot of conversations going on. Men and women from all the lower corners of the Gotham City underworld were either having a drink on their own, talking to one another or playing some kind of game, be it pool, cards or darts.

Looking around, she kept an eye out for a quiet booth and table where she would be able to observe the majority of the barflies and keep an eye out for anyone who might send this part of the plan belly-up.

Finding one near the corner, she quickly walked up to the bar and ordered a bottle of ginger beer.

The bartender obliged her; she paid in cash and took her drink to the booth she had noticed earlier, thankful that it had not been claimed.

Pouring the non-alcoholic drink into her glass, Natasha scanned the room for familiar faces-contract killers, petty thieves, and low-level mobsters-anyone with a criminal record that SHIELD wasn't interested in.

A man wearing a fine brown suit and sunglasses, with a matchstick between his teeth, walked into the bar and headed for the counter, ordering a drink from the bartender when he got there. Judging by the way he and the bartender acted to each other, Natasha concluded that the man with the match was a regular here and was on good terms with the bartender.

Natasha recognised him a little, but she wasn't entirely sure who he was, other than that she was going to ask Hill when she got back to the hotel.

* * *

'Matches' Malone wondered if the leather jacket-wearing brunette in the corner booth could see his eyes look at her through his sunglasses.

She wasn't exactly tall: he guessed that, at the most, she was 5 feet 5 inches tall, and probably between 110-135 pounds.

She was certainly attractive, that was for sure, very much so; but that wasn't always enough in Gotham (unless you either had an obsession with plants and a mind for poisons, or had claws in your gloves and knew how to handle a whip).

She was also sitting in the corner of the bar, where she had given herself the best line of sight possible. She wanted to see everyone who approached her.

Which meant that she probably knew what she was doing when she walked into The Stacked Deck. She still had the look of someone who had never come to Gotham before.

'Who is she?' he wondered curiously. He had never seen her before, had never seen any photographs of her before, and if she introduced herself to him, he doubted it would ring any bells.

'Maybe she isn't a criminal,' he thought. 'Maybe she's an undercover cop (GCPD? State Police?), maybe she's from the FBI or Marshals Service, maybe she's just new to Gotham, but hasn't yet realised The Stacked Deck usually caters to criminals.'

The bartender gave him his drink (iced tea with lemon juice), and as Malone took a sip of it, his musings continued.

'Or perhaps she's a reporter looking for a story. In which case, if my fellow patrons find out, she'd better hope they don't think it worth killing her over.'

He glanced over at the pool table, where three men, all ex-cops fresh out of prison, were playing together. He then looked over at 'Knowing some people in here, they'd kill her later given the chance.

'All that said,' his thoughts continued as he took a sip of his water, 'whatever she is, she has chosen a very good place to sit in this bar. You can see nearly everything that goes on from that corner. Makes it useful for picking out the dangerous people in the room-and having a back to the wall means nobody gets to surprise you.'

Focusing on the woman again, he noticed a man in his early 40s walk up to her booth and sit down, drink in his hand. He continued to watch as the man then sat down next to the woman, who appeared not to give a damn about him.

He hoped nothing happened to either of them. It would be nice to spend a day in this place without a fight breaking out for once.

* * *

"Mind if I join you?" asked a Southern voice to Natasha. Looking up, Natasha noticed a man in a beige suit with a drink in his hand standing up.

Natasha shrugged, only hoping that he didn't prevent her from asking about the Batman.

The man looked to be the same age as Tony Stark, but was less handsome. His black hair had a widow's peak that looked like it was receding, giving the impression that he had a large forehead.

"Sonny Burch," the man said with a smile, sticking out his hand. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, miss?"

Natasha shook her head. "Not now." She neglected to bring up SHIELD's file on his activities.

"Fine." Withdrawing his hand, he sat down next to Natasha and put his drink on the table.

Noticing she was looking at something, Burch turned his head, trying to see what she was looking at, to no avail.

"What are you looking for, exactly?" he asked with some confusion.

Natasha inhaled. Burch mainly operated out of California, where he owned a restaurant as a front. But being an illicit arms dealer with suspected connections in law enforcement, it didn't surprise her that he would be in Gotham City, even if only for a short while.

'It's possible, then,' she decided, 'that he's been paid a visit by the Batman. It's also possible he knows something.'

"Someone who'll answer my question," she replied simply.

Burch raised an eyebrow. "And what kind of question would that be?"

"I'm not sure if I should tell you," replied Natasha. "We've only just met."

"Well, I imagine I can handle it," countered Burch.

"Alright then, if you say so," agreed Natasha, watching Burch take his drink.

"What can you tell me about the Batman?"

* * *

The moment she finished, Burch choked on his drink and began coughing, gaining the attention of several other patrons, and making Malone more suspicious.

"Wh-What?" he exclaimed in surprise. "You want to talk about  _him_?"

Some of the nearby patrons quietened down to try and hear the conversation. Others figured out what they were going to talk about and promptly ignored them.

Malone knew that if these men got riled up enough by mentions of the Batman, things could turn ugly. Mentally, he prepped himself to intervene and act as a Good Samaritan just in case (he really did not want another fight in here).

"Yeah, I want to talk about him," Natasha replied to Burch. "That's kind-of why I asked you about him."

"Listen lady," Burch explained, "You do not-I repeat, do not-just waltz into this city and go asking people about the Batman. Okay?"

"Yes, but I didn't," countered Natasha. "I waltzed into this city, sat down in this bar, let you sit down with me, and then I asked you about the Batman."

"Don't be funny," warned Burch with a more menacing undertone. "people who ask the wrong questions in this town still go missing..."

"Is that before or after Loeb got thrown into the courthouse?"

"With or without him, there are plenty of people in this city-especially in this corner-who don't take kindly to being asked about the Batman."

"Why? It's just a question," pointed out Natasha.

"Well," explained Burch, "it can bring up...bad memories for some people."

Malone turned and noticed that Dan Brickwell, one of Black Mask's enforcers, was listening in on the conversation intently and angrily, judging by his expression, the look in his eyes and the drumming of his fingers.

"I'm just looking for simple stuff-I'm not naming anybody, or giving this to the police-though I know they'll probably ask. Just the physical appearance, where he likes to hang out, his favourite punching bags, that kind of thing."

* * *

It didn't take much longer for Burch to realise that further attempts at dissuading her would only prove futile, and sighed in defeat.

"Fine. What do you want me to tell you? And be warned-I'm no native Gothamite, so I don't know as much."

"I don't mind," shrugged Natasha. "It's a start."

Malone turned again to Brickwell. He knew that six months ago, the big man had gotten his ass kicked by the Batman in a very public and humiliating manner, the story of which had managed to spread amongst the underworld and dealt damage to Brickwell's reputation. Since then, any mentions of the incident while he was in earshot (unless it was his boss or the Penguin talking about him) would set him off-an event Malone had seen once too often.

And being only a few feet away from a woman who really wanted her questions about the Batman answered (and really insisted on it, to the clear discomfort of Sonny Burch), Malone had a sinking feeling that Brickwell's beat-down, and Brickwell being set off, was less a matter of 'if' than 'when'.

Going by the looks several other patrons in the vicinity gave, he was not alone in that feeling.

"Where do you wanna start?" asked Burch.

"Anywhere's good," replied Natasha. "Anything interesting? Especially stuff that hasn't made the front pages?"

"You mean like when he sent about a dozen SWAT officers in the hospital?" asked Burch.

Natasha nodded. "Yeah, I've heard that story before. But I'm talking about stories like that that  _didn't_ make the papers."

"Well, there was this one time when he came in here looking for the Joker's hideout," began Burch (nearby, Malone groaned), "and wiped the floor with one of the guys here."

At least three or four of the eavesdropping patrons facepalmed or swore silently, knowing that the Batman's victim that day-Brickwell-happened to be a few feet away.

"I hoped that incident wouldn't get mentioned until later," muttered Malone, "and it's the first one he mentions instead."

"That is it," growled Brickwell, not able to take it anymore as he got up and began walking over to Natasha's booth.

Malone sighed in resignation, and readied himself to step in and intervene, while Natasha's boot made for Brickwell's groin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I had writer's block on it.
> 
> I own none of the characters.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my third attempt at a Batman/Avengers crossover. My first two were originally published here on FanFiction.Net, but I deleted them a while ago.
> 
> Regardless of future MCU developments, the X-Men will not be involved.
> 
> Batman won't be the only DC character to show up here, don't you worry.


End file.
